Outside Help Wanted
by Pynrieg
Summary: The life of Harry Potter is never easy. What happens when the muggles need some help and he's not completely willing to give it? HP/Dollhouse x-over
1. Prologue

"We need outside help," the deep whisper rumbled.

"Topher said he had it under control, damnit." The refined voice stated simply.

"That was before Alpha started… you know… starting taking it up another notch." The geek had spitted out quickly knowing full well no one really cared at this point. "Plus, I _had _protected the actives from the audio-wiping trick he learned. How was I suppose to anticipate this?"

"We can assign blame later. Right now, we need Alpha stopped." The older woman had regained this discussion. "Since no Active can track him in the field, we need _outside help_. Surely there's someone who can stop this before he brings down this entire House! Ideas?"

The newest handler made the first suggestion. "How about the CIA? Surely…."

Topher shot down this one with a laugh. "Who do you think is responsible for giving me the profiles I assign the Dolls? We have the copies of all the brightest brains they have. The best they have to offer…"

"As much as I loathe to admit it, Mr. Brink is dead on. This House has the brightest minds available through the Dolls, and they don't even know where to start."An idea had sparked in Boyd's mind. His uncle was someone who might just be able to help. But there was one problem… "Until we have some leads, I'm keeping Sierra and Victor in their current roles. Echo is still being attacked wherever she performs, so she will contiune to be kept off duty until further notice. You're all dismissed."

The room had been cleared quickly. Sierra and Victor were spy-hunting their way through paperwork. Topher helped them as best he could, but being the base for their current personalities he was being treated as just another gofer. Boyd closed the door to DeWitt's office as the last of them left.

"Is Alpha really that close to bringing us down?" Adelle wondered out loud.

"I may know someone who can point us to who can help us stop Alpha." Boyd laid his ace down. "But I need to know if you believe in magic?"

* * *


	2. Prologue 2

"Well, what did you…" the voice faded, trying to search for a word in a foreign language, "expect... to happen?"

"You're going to burn for what you did…" The resolve in the former Auror's voice was firm.

" Your frau…" the dying man was asking for death with what he was saying, "she begged for me to continue the fire I set to her. I stopped it at her waist to make sure you could never tell what I did." With every word, the standing man remembered more and more what this monster might of done. The wand in his hand was itching with the power coursing underneath its wooden shell. The dying man barely whispered "Verfehlen nicht" before the wand had had enough of waiting and let out a burning red light of the stunning curse.

Harry Potter fought this man for five years. The bad man had taken five years of Harry's life, his friends, had taken his wife, his very home from him. As an Auror, sacrifice was expected. Alastor was a prime example, his body slowly destroyed while a beacon of light. Ironic the man was more disfigured then any of those he faced, at least externally.

Harry was a stronger wizard, though. He was faster, younger, stronger, smarter with his magic then the battered old solider. He was the perfect fighter for this work. Yet he was also the weakest. Moody would have no qualms of killing this man for what he had done. He would be able to tell his family he had done everything to stop the evil from returning. Harry could not.

The clean-up crew found the hero not long after. A parade, a celebration at his inability to deliver true justice, his family would never be able to escape their suffering for Harry's morals; he wished that he could give up his righteousness. Voldemort was different. It was destiny. That monster could not be held; its very existence a blight upon magic.

The newest Dark Lord was merely a man. An evil, sadistic, cruel man, yet still human. His soul was still whole; cracked, yet still one. It was messy, trying to figure out who was evil, who was merely wrong. These dark lords were merely caricatures of the public, sometimes they held ideas the public weren't ready to accept, or sometimes throwbacks to the past. Each knew he was right, and each time someone else knew he was wrong. All in all, one giant clusterfuck of moral dilemma.

Months passed, and Harry realized he no longer cared. Sure, the fights would always continue between species, between wizards. He stopped them when he could, but he no longer cared for that job. It took about three minutes for him to resign. Fifteen wonderfully horrible years of worry over in just a few minutes of paper signing, fifteen years of fighting through red tape, through the grey in every criminal act, now was in his past.

Being as rich as he was, Harry had no need for a job, and for a few months he was able to get by just existing. A few owls sent to and from the remains of the Weasley clan and Ted, mostly talking about nothing except gossip. Nothing constructive, just passing time away.

It took three months for the magic Harry contained to start itching. It needed something to target. The household charms weren't cutting it. Whenever he cast a dusting charm, the entire flat would expel dust like a smoke stack, cooking charms made food into charcoal, and vermin charms Harry wouldn't even try in fear of wiping out the entire species. The magic was bubbling inside of him, to try and vanquish whatever the target.

These three months weren't easy on Harry's psyche, either. Being mostly cut off from the world, little to no human contact, wasn't good for any person. You do that to a fighter, someone who is exemplifies SNAFU, and you drive them insane. His was wishing for something to do when the owl came.

* * *

A/N: Sorry all, but I just broke up with my girlfriend of two and a half years, and yes, I am currently homeless. What do you do when you find her on a date with her dance partner when she told you she was going out with girlfriends, then you find *his* shirt in your laundry a few days later? And then she's pissed at you for being pissed? It certainly isn't sit down to write a fanfic.

I'm not dropping this story, I'm merely holding off until I find that someone to spend my time with. Or get over with the anger and all that. Whatever comes first. Also maybe when I'm sitting at work and have nothing to do for a few hours until my shift starts. Who knows?

Bonus questions: Would you move into a house with that girl you first had a serious crush on?

#2: Any girls in Tucson at the 18-24 age range and single? That's right, I just made a dating site. Go me. Check out my facebook, I'm usually lonely and looking to talk to anyone out there.


End file.
